Huntress: Family
by zAtAnnA zAtArA
Summary: One-Shot! She's never been accepted by the Bat-family...never been trusted. Until a rooftop conversation with Batman occurs. ...please r and r!


Disclaimer: None of the characters appearing below are of my creation. They belong to the people over at D.C. Comics, thank you very much. :-D

Block, block, punch, kick, twirl, kick, block, shoot, headbutt, twirl, punch, kick, open-fist slam, and down.

I land on my feet and quickly whirl around to survey the damage I've done in the past few minutes. The late night salty breeze off the nearby bay gently plays with my hair. My glossy lips (is it really that wrong to wear some make-up while in costume? I can't help it in any case) part in a smile. The best part about being a crime fighter, I think, is the fact that I can take my anger out on the bad guys if and when I need to.

This is one of those nights I need to.

It's funny though. You wouldn't think that this is a night where I would need to go out and kick some butt to make me feel better about myself. Oracle has just made me one of her operatives. She, along with the Black Canary, invested trust in me. They _accepted_ me. Something that no one's ever done before. I've worked with them all before at one point or another. Robin, Nightwing, Spoiler, Batgirl, and the king B himself. None of them ever dared to accept me.

It was that part that struck my bitch chord.

None of them _ever_ accepted me. No matter how much I was there for them, no matter how much I helped them out, I was _never_ accepted. And so, really, I should be thrilled with myself. Finally someone sees that I can do something. Finally someone sees that I have the potential to be someone great, someone better than who I was when I first started out.

And yet, here I am, in the middle of Gotham City, completely pissed off anyway.

So I turn, ready to walk away from my damage of the Big Bads this evening, when I nearly crash into him. The King B. He-Who-Would-Be-Dictator-Of-The-Capes.

Batman.

"Huntress," he says, his voice gruff, low, and slightly chilling to anyone who neither wears a cape nor hasn't descended from a mafia family.

"Batman," I reply, trying to keep my voice calm, respectful, and kind. It's difficult to do that, though, when you're standing in front of someone who inherently does not trust you and refuses to believe that you have the right to sneak around town in a cape and mask, wielding a crossbow or two.

"You did this," he states, simply, coldly.

"None of them is dead, if that's what you're wondering. Knocked out, unconscious, and definitely uglier than they were when I first started with them – not that they would have won any beauty contests anyway – but they're still breathing."

"Why?"

"Because they were criminals? Because they were attempting to steal – and okay, but how generic of a plan is this anyway? – a shipment of diamonds."

"You didn't need to turn them into a bloody, pulpy mess."

"At least they're still living," I say, as I move to turn around and leave. The last thing I need tonight, the last thing I need at all, is him admonishing me for the way I work. Yes, I'm a little violent, yes, I should probably pull back earlier, but that's just not my personality. I'm just a little bit more vicious than that.

He stops me, though, by jumping over me and landing in front of me. "You're too violent for your own good, Huntress. I can't accept that."

God, there it is. That word. "_Accept_." He can't _accept_ that. He can't accept _me_. Who died and turned him into a dictator? "I don't need your acceptance, Batman. I don't need anything from you. As you can see, there's neither an 'R' anywhere on my costume nor the image of a bat. The only thing I need from you is space, space to operate on my own. You've already made it clear to the GCPD that I'm not a part of your little team."

"But you are part of a team now."

"So she told you."

"She did."

"Should have expected that." I took a deep breath and turned my head away for a moment. It shouldn't have been surprising, really, that Oracle had told Batman that I was one of her operatives now. I mean, technically, she was part of his team, right?

That thought there made me feel the slightest bit sick. If that meant that he had every right to rule over me…

"She's her own person, with her own operatives," Batman said, simultaneously breaking into my thoughts and relieving me at the same time. "I don't interfere much in that aspect of Oracle's job."

"Then what is it that this little meeting is about? I know there's been some crazy break-out over at Arkham again. Shouldn't you be out playing bat and mouse?"

"Harley's been taken back in," Batman replied. "Batgirl and Robin took care of that."

"I see…so now you're dictating and delegating. Remind me again why you don't just pull an Oracle and sit behind a computer telling your kids what to do?"

"I'm not here for a fight Huntress," he then states, the smallest, slightest apologetic tone in his voice.

I try not to be cynical or bitchy. I really do. But it's impossible for me to do so. I mean, this is the guy who forced me out of the Batgirl costume when Gotham had become a veritable No Man's Land. This is the man who's made it clear that if I make one teeny-tiny mistake, I will be forced out of costume and into jail, or worse, Arkham. And so, instead of backing down and being polite like I should, I play the bitch card. Again. "So, why are you here? You just told me that I'm too violent for my own good. You told me I didn't need to screw them over as badly as I had. If you're not here to admonish me, what exactly are you here for?"

"To talk."

"Great. You know, there's a happy little Starbuck's nearby if you want to sit, kick back and have some coffee while we chit-chat. I don't need to talk to you Batman. I don't even want to talk to you."

"But you're going to."

I tilt my head to look at him. The way he's looking at me, so intensely, his eyes boring into me with a mixed expression of subdued anger and – surprisingly – respect, makes me think that in another lifetime he might have been my father. Only a father would look at his daughter with the sort of expression he used on me now, and a part of me hates the fact that he's looking at me that way. I'm not his daughter. I never will be. I'm not one of his kids, who he needs to sit down and talk to and whose life he needs to set straight.

God, I sound like the rebellious teen daughter.

"Yes, I'm going to." I finally answer.

Batman nods. "What I want to tell you, it's short. It's nothing insulting. Just some concerns, something I want to share with you."

"Go ahead."

"You're a good fighter, Huntress. Out in the field, you know what you're doing, and you're good at it. That much has been proven by Oracle's account of how you helped save the Black Canary from Savant."

I nod slowly, unsure of where this is going.

"The thing is, I don't think you know exactly how good you are."

Okay, that takes me back a step or ten. What? He actually thinks I'm good? No, wait…he means that I'm better than good? So what…that means he's actually seen my potential? I'm more weirded out right now than Leia ever was when she realized she'd made out with her brother. "What do you mean?" I ask him, a little unsurely. This is weird territory, especially coming from him of all people.

Batman sighed as his cowl-covered face searched my mysteriously masked one. "I don't know how to say this to you Huntress. It's difficult. You and I, we've never stood on good ground."

"No, we never have. And because of that, everyone else hated me as well."

"Not everyone."

"Nightwing still turned against me anyway."

Batman was silent a moment before he continued. "You're great at what you do, Huntress. Amazing in fact."

"Are you gonna hand me some salt with this? 'Cause I'm telling you, I need a grain or two."

"Huntress…" Batman said, a very slight edge creeping back into his voice.

"Sorry. Please, continue."

"As I was saying…you're good at what you do Huntress. But you have a lot of rage built up inside you. You waste too much of your energy trying to prove yourself to the world. Don't do that. You have potential in you…potential to rival even Batgirl if you try hard enough. I think you need to realize that, Huntress."

I stare at Batman dumbfounded. I can't really believe my ears. Is Batman seriously praising me? Me? The vigilante thorn in his side? He…he thinks I have potential. I'm not sure whether to smile or barf.

"No, Batman, I think you need to understand what you just said. I have potential, yes, I've always known it. You were the one who was too blind to see it; you were the one who wanted me off of the streets. You're the one who forced me out of the Batgirl costume when Gotham City needed a Bat. I know I've got the goods. The question always was whether or not you saw what I had to offer."

"Then now you have your answer." He turns to leave, his cape billowing in the breeze. I'm still glued to the rooftop, dumbstruck, shocked and surprised.

"Wait," I stop him. This is too weird. I need to know why he wanted to have this conversation with me, when before he's almost always sent one of his lackeys to talk to me. If I don't ask him now, it's going to haunt me forever. After all, who knows when he's going to develop the sparkling personality (yeah, well, as sparkling as he'll ever get) he's had tonight again? "Why? Why meet me like this? Why come to tell me this?"

"Because you're too much like me when I first started out. That anger, that fury, that need to prove yourself, and being as violent as you think you need to be to do that. It'll destroy you, Huntress. It almost destroyed _me_," he says with this urgency in his voice. I'm struck by that urgency, wondering where it's come from. He was so rude and gruff and confrontational just minutes ago.

"Why now, Batman?"

"Because you're part of a family now," he replied, as he stepped into the shadows, away from me.

There it was, I realized, as he completely. Acceptance. I was part of a family now. I was accepted, somewhat, by Batman. My rage for that night slowly drained away from me, and I realized I had a sudden craving for a green apple martini. I felt a little more relaxed, a little surer of myself. I was accepted. I wasn't the lost, orphaned little mafia princess anymore.

I was officially family.

* * *

Writer's Note: Hey all, this is something I wrote back in late 2003/early 2004 (in about fifteen minutes), but never posted up. It's not my best work, and certainly not one I'm overwhelmingly proud of, but I thought I'd go on ahead and post it up and see what you guys think of this. Any and all reviews are welcome! HAPPY NEW YEAR! 


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